A little bit disconnected

Having spent a week away from home visiting various places and faces, I returned on Sunday evening and casually threw open the lid on my Mac to see what had been going on in the world only to discover that the bastards at BT had (apparently, for no reason at all) decided to cut our internet connection. Being familiar with the felling of being phone-less due to a long line of misfortunate hydro-accidents, pickpocketers and general carelessness, it shocked me to encounter such feeling of isolation and disconnection. I can only blame my current location and possibly the weather for these irrational emotions. I have spent much quality time over the passed week with people I care dearly about, so why should I feel like I am missing out on something greater just because I cannot write on their virtual wall, or send a pointless email just to spur a response that is not one fueled out of love, but which is purely reactive. My obsessive habit of checking in on the Guardian website to see if I have missed anything that is headline worthy also seems to be superior to picking a trusty old newspaper, or listening to the news updates on the radio which never fail to be broadcast on the hour, if not half way through as well. Surely an hour isn't too long to wait to here what is (or isn't) going on our there?

So, here I am...sat in a swanky bar in Truro, swigging their over-priced g+t's, whilst it howls with terrifying rain outside. Just so I can feel part of the 'real world'. The only thing 'real' about this situation is that I am going to get drenched as soon as I step back outside into actual world.

The Sum of Hours Wasted

1 hour: Friday night sat in traffic in central Bristol
30 mins: Saturday morning driving vverrrryyy slowly to Clifton
20 mins: Saturday afternoon queuing to enter carpark
30 mins: Saturday evening queuing to exit carpark
1 hour 25 mins: Sunday morning driving round Bristol in circles trying to get on the M5


Total: 3 hours 45 mins wasted sat in a car unnecessarily. Some people do this every weekend. I hope I have never have to experience it again. Next time I might cycle to Bristol (from Cornwall)...it probably wouldn't take that much longer.


http://www.thebristolbikeproject.org/ 

Four years later

"It is easy to love in memory: the hard part is to love them when they are there, in front of you"

from "My Father's Tears & Other Stories" John Updike

x